The Fine Line
by JKLB
Summary: Some say that there is a fine line between love and hate, and in a person as bitter as Severus Snape it is probably true. A story of Severus's unrequited feelings for Remus Lupin and why they turned to hatred. Slash, but no sex. MWPP in flashbacks.


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Some say that there is a fine line between love and hate. I'd imagine that in a person as bitter as Severus Snape, it's probably true. This story is set in Harry's sixth year.

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The Fine Line

"Hello, Severus. I hope I'm not disturbing you." 

Severus Snape looked up from the potion he was brewing to see the werewolf. Backlit by the torches in the hallway, he was a mere silhouette in the doorway, but as he moved into the dungeon, the fire under the cauldron illuminated his pale face. Cheekbones and jawline, already sharp and distinct from chronic semi-starvation, seemed even sharper in the dim and flickering light. His eyes were completely lost in the shadows.

Yes, the werewolf was disturbing him—more than he wished to admit—more than he ever would admit.

"It would disturb me more if you forgot to come, Lupin," Snape said coolly. "We do not want a repetition of three years ago." He carefully watched the werewolf's face for a reaction. He enjoyed making the werewolf uncomfortable, and he knew that mentioning the night that he had forgotten to drink the Wolfsbane Potion would do just that.

The werewolf's face betrayed no emotion. Perhaps a slight narrowing of the eyes, but Snape was probably imagining that. The shadows still obscured his eyes. 

The werewolf crossed to the corner and took the lid off the cauldron that held the Wolfsbane Potion. Snape watched him ladle the potion into the goblet that had been left beside the cauldron. The ladle scraped the bottom. There was enough potion for tonight, but little more. Tonight was the seventh and last night that he would need to drink it this month. Tonight was the full moon.

Whenever Snape thought of the full moon, he was pulled back involuntarily to one particular full moon—the night he learned what Lupin was—the night Lupin almost killed him. In his mind's eye, Snape did not see the thin man before him, he saw the snarling wolf in the tunnel. His breath caught in his throat.

Snape hated being afraid. He hated being vulnerable. Lupin would pay.

"I'm still amazed that you dared to come back here," Snape sneered, "after you came so close to biting precious Potter and his friends the last time."

A slight shudder shook Lupin's thin frame. Snape smiled.

"Disgusting stuff," Lupin muttered. He put down the empty goblet. The smile on Snape's face died. He'd never know if the shudder were a reaction to his words or to the vile taste of the potion. He'd make it taste worse if he could.

Lupin now turned to face Snape again. His expression was carefully neutral, the look of a man unwilling to betray his emotions. Snape knew the look well. He saw it in the mirror every day.

"I only came back because Professor Dumbledore insisted," Lupin stated calmly. "There are dangers greater than werewolves, as you well know." Both men knew that since Lord Voldemort's return, the Death Eater ranks had been swelling. Fears were high that an attack upon Hogwarts was inevitable.

"Don't underestimate the danger _you_ pose to this school, Lupin. I will not. I promise you that I _will_ do whatever is necessary to protect this school and its students."

Lupin nodded. "I know you will, and I'm grateful. It's one of the reasons I was willing to return."

Snape saw the flames reflected in Lupin's eyes. The golden gleam made it so easy to think of this man as a wolf. A wolf calmly discussing his own death? Had he misunderstood the veiled threat? Snape decided to be more blunt.

"I will kill you if necessary."

"I know. Good night, Severus."

The werewolf turned and calmly walked out of the dungeon. With a wave of his hand, Snape extinguished the fire under the cauldron beside him. He sat alone in the darkness, lost in his memories.

* * * * *

It had been their fifth year when Severus had realized that he was attracted to Remus Lupin. October. Astronomy class. Something about the way the light of the half moon shone on his pale face. Something about the unreadable look in his eyes as he stared at the moon. Severus found himself wanting to stroke that pale cheek, to gaze into those eyes.

It was a shock. Severus had never been physically attracted to anyone before, male or female. It was his first crush. The most shocking part was that he was attracted to another boy. The mores of the wizarding world were conservative, and the taboo against homosexuality was strong. To be openly gay was to open oneself to ridicule, to prejudice. It made one vulnerable, and Severus Snape hated being vulnerable. This was something he would have to hide.

Hiding his feelings didn't make them go away, nor was he sure that he wanted them to. They had only three classes together: Arithmancy, Potions, and Astronomy. In all three, Severus tried to choose a seat where he could watch Remus. He loved the calm confidence on Remus's face as he discussed difficult arithmancy concepts. He also loved the way his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he struggled in Potions. Best of all was Astronomy. Remus was always beautiful in the light of the stars and the moon. Severus ached to kiss him then.

More than once, Severus's friends caught him staring in the direction of Remus and his friends. Fortunately, they misunderstood.

"Keeping your eye on the Gryffindors again, Severus? What are they up to this time?"

It was probably a good thing that it was one of the Gryffindors whom he had fallen for. If he had been someone more available, a Slytherin perhaps, the chance of a slip in Severus's resolve to hide his feelings would have been greater. But a Gryffindor—a friend of the despised James Potter—no. He was certain that Remus must dislike him, must despise him. There was no possibility that his feelings could ever be returned, thus there was no temptation to reveal his feelings. Very little temptation, at least.

By the end of fifth year, Severus had discovered that Remus liked studying in the library. It was soon Severus's favorite place to study as well. Remus's presence had only proved a temporary distraction from his studies. Severus just liked the warm feeling he had from knowing that Remus was nearby.

The library was one of the few places that Remus could be found without the other Gryffindors. Potter and Black seemed to prefer studying in the Gryffindor common room. Occasionally Pettigrew was with him, always asking Remus to tutor him in one thing or another. He was especially annoying one day shortly before exams.

Remus had already wasted two hours trying to explain how to block curses and how to perform a cleansing charm. Severus was sitting close enough to overhear but only listened periodically. He would have lost his patience with Pettigrew an hour ago and admired that Remus had not. When he heard exasperation finally creeping into Remus's voice, he began to pay attention again.

"Please, Peter. I really need to finish this essay for Binns, and I still have to go down to the dungeons and make-up the Potions assignment that I missed on Monday. If it's not on Zabini's desk by tomorrow morning…"

"Just a few more minutes, Remus. I still don't understand how to control what color the fur is when I transfigure something into a cat. I wish McGonagall wasn't so picky."

"I'm sure James or Sirius can explain it."

"James is at Quidditch practice, and Sirius can't explain things. He's too impatient."

"All right. Just five minutes."

Severus closed his books and scowled at Peter. He knew that Remus had been absent from Potions on Monday and Arithmancy yesterday. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he still wasn't feeling well. Yet his supposed friend was asking him to spend time tutoring him instead of allowing Remus to catch up on his own assignments. Severus roughly shoved his things into his bag and stood up to leave the library. He walked slowly behind Remus and Pettigrew.

"What a bloody idiot you are, Pettigrew," Severus hissed. "Do you need Lupin to cut up your food and spoon feed you too?" He left without waiting to see their reactions. He had undoubtedly annoyed Remus by criticizing his friend, but it was worth it. Pettigrew needed to be told off, and Remus wouldn't do it.

Severus headed for the dungeons, intending to return to the Slytherin common room, but changed his mind partway there. Pettigrew would probably stretch five minutes into another hour, and Remus had said that he still needed to write an essay for History of Magic before he could work on his potion. Monday's assignment, a Canine Poultice Potion, had been easy to create, but time consuming. Severus didn't want Remus to have to work half the night.

Professor Zabini had left the Potions classroom unlocked and the recipe on the table where Remus customarily sat. The professor had written at the bottom, "Please make the variation for treating a wound made by a cerberus." Canine Poultice Potion had four variations: for the wounds of cerberi, crups, werewolves, and non-magical canines. In class, they had made the werewolf variation. Severus assumed that the professor was asking for a different variation now so Lupin couldn't hand in a vial of some of the potion that his friends had made on Monday. Only one change had to be made in the recipe—substitute black medic trefoil for wolfsbane. Severus set to work brewing the potion. If Remus or Professor Zabini were to arrive while he worked, he would just pretend that he hadn't been satisfied with his own work on Monday and was practicing before exams.

An hour and a half later, the potion was finished and bottled. Severus left it beside the recipe on Remus's table, and beside it, a note.

"Dear Remus, I know you want to do your own work, but if you run out of time, hand this in. –Sirius"

Sirius's messy scrawl was easy to fake. Severus had forged it before to amusing effect. Just before last December's Hogsmeade weekend, "Sirius" had sent notes to three girls, one each in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and asked each of them to go with him to the Three Broomsticks. The joke had worked even better than planned. It had turned out that Potter was interested in the Gryffindor girl. The rift hadn't lasted long—Potter apparently believed Black when he said that he hadn't written the note.

But this note wasn't quite right. Moony. Sirius tended to call Remus by that nonsensical nickname. "Moony" just made no sense for someone as emotionally controlled as Remus. But, the note was supposed to be from Sirius. Severus waved his wand. "Remus" was erased; "Moony" was written in its place.

In their sixth year, Severus realized that he wasn't merely attracted to Remus, he was in love with him. He didn't just feel a physical attraction—although those feelings were even stronger. Remus's appearance had gained a new maturity that was incredibly sexy. Severus was just as attracted to Remus's character, his personality. Everything Severus valued in others—or in himself—he saw in Remus. He was intelligent, intuitive, emotionally controlled, fearless. There was also something unknowable about him, an air of mystery. "_He's exactly like me_," Severus thought, "_only better_." He did not mind at all that Remus was a better version of himself.

If there was one moment when Severus had realized that he was in love, it was probably the last Saturday of September. It was unusually warm for Scotland in September, and most of the students were outside enjoying their last taste of summer. Severus and several other Slytherins, mostly seventh years and a couple sixth years, were discussing wards, protective spells that worked much like invisible walls. The seventh years had just started studying them in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Remus, without his friends for a change, was passing nearby. Most students from other houses were giving this group of Slytherins a wide berth, but Remus did not. In fact, when he heard the topic under discussion, he stopped to listen.

"No, that's not _quite_ right," Remus interrupted. He then proceeded to explain the finer points of what a very shocked Slytherin seventh year had been saying. Severus was amazed. Not only was Remus already an expert on something they wouldn't study until next year, and able to explain it in a way that was both elegant and easy to understand, but that he was daring to do it! Every single Slytherin there was glaring at Remus, but it didn't cow him in the slightest. He just finished what he was saying and continued on his way.

Severus still had no intention of revealing his feelings. The risk of rejection by Remus was too high. The risk of discrimination by others was equally high. Severus still hated being vulnerable.

He did, however, start trying to learn more about Remus. Last year, he had noticed how often Remus was absent. In retrospect, it seemed that Remus had been absent more than most in previous years as well. Severus had never really noticed. It wasn't surprising actually. Gryffindor and Slytherin had only a few classes together, and, the truth be told, before last year he had paid more attention to Potter and Black than to Remus. 

Rumor had it that Remus's mother was very ill and that he frequently went home to care for her. Severus had also learned that Remus lived alone with his mother. To have already lost one parent and to be facing the loss of the other, it would certainly explain the haunted look that sometimes appeared in Remus's eyes.

Not every absence was due to his mother's illness. On more than one occasion, Severus overheard Remus's friends making plans to visit him in the hospital wing. They didn't seem concerned or upset about his being there, so Severus knew it couldn't be anything too serious. Still, it did worry him that Remus was sick so often. Once, when he "accidentally" ran into Potter and Black returning from visiting Remus in the hospital wing, he had actually dared to ask them what was wrong—in as sneering a tone as possible, of course.

"Lupin is sick _again_. What on earth is wrong with him, anyway?"

"Rabies," said Potter completely deadpan. Black burst into a peal of laughter as they walked away.

Throughout the year, it was clear that teenage hormones had hit most of the sixth years hard. Potter and his fellow Gryffindor prefect Lily Evans, for example, were seen more and more in each other's company. Black was attracting nearly every girl in the school and seemed to revel in the attention. (Even Severus had to admit to himself that Black was extremely good-looking—but incredibly irritating.)

Severus found it intriguing that Remus was one of the few sixth years that he never saw in the company of a member of the opposite sex. He knew better than to make assumptions. Remus was a reserved and private person, not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. But still, it did fuel fantasies. It made Severus even more determined to learn more about Remus, to learn what secrets he was hiding. That desire had almost proved fatal.

* * * * *

Snape's memories were drawing him back to the night he hated to relive. He lit the classroom lamps and carried the cold cauldron beside him to a drain where he could pour out the aborted attempt at a potion. He hoped the activity of cleaning the two cauldrons and securing the ingredients in the back dungeon would distract him from his memories, or at least dull their impact.

Almost twenty years later and the memories were still painful. Being fool enough to listen to Black when he told him how to get into the Whomping Willow tunnel. Black's calm smile as he tried to send him to his death. The look of relief on Potter's face as they realized they had safely escaped the tunnel. The sickening realization that his life had just been saved by his most despised enemy, and the self-knowledge that he would not have done the same. The crushing unfairness of Dumbledore's under-reaction to the entire event. A week of detentions—it was a slap on the wrist for Black—a slap in the face for Severus. But the worst memory of all—seeing Remus, seeing the wolf.

Snape got the other cauldron from the corner and slowly poured out the dregs of the Wolfsbane Potion. A week old and it was still smoking. "_Too bad it only tastes unpleasant," _he thought. _"It would be better if it actually burned on the way down_."

* * * * *

In the tunnel, terror had overwhelmed every other emotion. In Dumbledore's office, he had focused on his anger—at Black for trying to kill him—at Dumbledore for not treating Black and his friends like the criminals they were, and for allowing a monster into the school in the first place. Anger was very useful when one wanted to bury other emotions.

But there was no escaping his other emotions for long. He had only seen the wolf for a moment before Potter had grabbed his arm and started him running away from it, but that moment was seared into his mind. The staring eyes glowing gold in the reflected wandlight. The long, sharp fangs, gleaming daggers of ivory, able to tear him apart with ease. The blood chilling sound of the wolf's growl saying, "I'm going to devour you, dying or dead."

Severus felt shame for having made himself so vulnerable. He had been a fool to listen to Black. He felt even more shame that he had fallen in love with something subhuman, a beast, a monster. That he had ever desired to touch him, to kiss him, to make love to him—Severus was violently, physically sick at the thought.

Lupin didn't reappear in the Great Hall for meals until the following Monday. He was with Black and Potter. This erased any doubts Severus may have had that Lupin had known of Black's plan in advance. Severus watched as the werewolf spoke to his friends and then calmly walked toward the Slytherin table, toward him. Potter and Black stood where Lupin left them, their body language tense. All of the conversations near Severus ceased abruptly as the Slytherins wondered what a Gryffindor could want to say to one of their own.

"May I speak to you, Severus? Privately?"

"No."

Lupin did not react. It was probably the reply he expected. He returned to his friends and they joined Pettigrew at the Gryffindor table.

"What the hell was that about, Severus?"

"Mind your own business, Rosier."

"What's wrong? Did the freak make a pass at you or something?"

All the Slytherins laughed.

His appetite gone, Severus waited for the conversations around him to resume and then returned to his empty dormitory. He paced the floor, trying to comprehend what had just happened. When Lupin had come near him, part of him had been repulsed, horrified by the monster's proximity. But part of him had still desired him, still found him beautiful. Severus hated himself for his weakness, and he hated the werewolf for being the cause of it all.

* * * * *

As Snape extinguished the classroom lamps and walked to his bedroom, he indulged himself with more pleasing memories. Silver and wolfsbane. 

* * * * *

Severus had found so many interesting ways to harass the werewolf. Putting wolfsbane sprigs in his pocket and then sitting behind the werewolf in class. Lupin would bolt out of his seat and hurriedly cross the room as his classmates stared in surprise. One of his friends would then need to bring him his abandoned books. Sending anonymous bouquets of flowers to various Gryffindor girls, bouquets that always contained wolfsbane. He hoped the entire Gryffindor common room reeked of it. Giving the werewolf objects made of silver—especially effective when other students were present and he didn't dare react to the pain.

Severus remembered seventh year's Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match. Black and Avery had made a five galleon wager on the match. Although Severus cheered for Slytherin, he secretly hoped that Gryffindor would win. They did. "_Thank you, Potter_." Severus accompanied Avery into a crowd of Gryffindors so Avery could pay his debt. When Avery discovered that his bag of money was not in his pocket (Severus had seen to that) Severus had offered to pay. However, since he was still "angry" at Black for the latest stupid prank, he paid Lupin. Severus and the werewolf locked eyes in a silent battle of wills as Severus began to count out the coins into Lupin's open hand. He had paid him ten silver sickles before Black stopped scanning the crowd for Potter and realized what was happening. He knocked the coins out of his friend's hand and onto the ground.

"Keep your stupid money, Slytherin. We'll win the Quidditch Cup again this year, and that's reward enough."

Lupin had hidden the pain as the silver burned his palm, but the relief was evident when Black acted. Severus smiled. He was making the werewolf pay for all the shame, humiliation, and self-hatred he felt.

* * * * *

When he reached his room, Snape removed two items from his robe's pockets and placed them on the table beside his bed, his wand and a long silver dagger. He liked carrying the dagger; it was a tangible reminder that he had prepared himself, physically and mentally, for the possibility that he might need to kill Lupin. He sat on his bed and drew the dagger from its sheath. The blade had a cold glow. Snape resisted the urge to draw his finger along the edge and pulled it down the flat of the blade instead. Silver, the only metal that could kill a werewolf.

Unless he was already unconscious, it would be difficult to kill a werewolf with such a dagger. One would have to come too close to those horrid fangs. Even if one managed to kill the wolf before being killed oneself, a bite was almost a certainty. Bitten by a werewolf, cursed to be a werewolf oneself, death was preferable.

It wasn't easy to kill a werewolf with spells either. When in his human form, a werewolf was just as vulnerable as a real human. When in his wolf form, the dark magic of his curse offered some protection. Every Hogwarts student learned that a Stunning Spell would be completely ineffective. Stronger curses that would kill or seriously injure a human might only render a werewolf unconscious, if they affected him at all. The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, had the best chance of success, but even it would only succeed if powered by strong magic, if performed by someone skilled at it. Snape was certain he could do it, if he needed to.

Snape lay down on the bed without changing his clothes. He felt less vulnerable this way, and he didn't want to feel vulnerable tonight. He was uncertain whether he ever fell asleep that night—sleep was always difficult when the moon was full—but when the alarms went off, he was off the bed in a moment. He grabbed his wand and dagger and had the door open before he reached it. He slowed his long strides only slightly as he approached the hidden entrance of the Slytherin common room. He shouted the password and was pleased to see that the door did not open. It would stay sealed as long as the alarms were sounding, as would the other houses'. 

As he neared the stairs to the front hallway of the school, he saw flashes of light and heard spells being shouted. He quickened his pace; every sense was fully alert and wary. The Death Eater attack upon the school had begun. He stunned the two Death Eaters nearest him as he came up the stairs and quickly scanned the scene. Dumbledore was in the thick of the battle; the expression upon his face would have terrified a lesser man. Snape saw three Death Eaters simultaneously raise their wands at Dumbledore. Time slowed as Snape stunned the nearest of the three and saw the second fall as Dumbledore stunned him. Snape stunned the third, but he knew that he was a moment too late. The Death Eater had performed the Killing Curse. Snape didn't watch to see if Dumbledore fell. If he had been hit, it was too late to help him. Instead, Snape continued to fight, tried to save the school.

In what seemed an eternity, but was only a few minutes, all the Death Eaters were unconscious, dead, or had fled. It had been too easy; this had only been a testing of the school's defenses, of the faculty's willingness to protect the school. Snape noted with disdain that Voldemort had not dared to come himself; he still feared Dumbledore. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw that Dumbledore was still standing. He felt immense relief, but hid his emotions as he moved among the bodies, checking on the condition of his fellow faculty and confiscating wands from the Death Eaters. One sight sent an involuntary shudder of horror through him. Two Death Eaters were covered in their own blood, jagged wounds on their throats. The werewolf had defended the school the only way he could.

Snape turned to look at Dumbledore and realized that he had not moved from the place where he had first seen him. Dumbledore was now kneeling down and had his hand on the still form of the wolf. Snape suddenly realized why the Headmaster had survived; Lupin had shielded him. Snape was afraid to move closer, afraid to learn if Remus was alive. His old feelings for Remus welled up from the depths where he had buried them. Somehow, he approached them. He saw the wolf's chest rise with a labored breath and felt immense relief. Snape closed his eyes briefly and took a deep steadying breath. Dumbledore spoke in a weary voice. 

"He will not survive the dawn. When he transforms back—"

Snape felt an icy chill pass through him. "There's nothing you can do, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Severus, would you please bring him up to the infirmary? I need to stay here for the moment."

"I don't think—" Snape began, struggling to control his voice.

Anger flashed in Dumbledore's eyes, and he spoke in a low voice. "He is _dying_, Severus. Put aside your differences just once."

"You misunderstand me, Headmaster. Of course I'll take him. It's just—Remus was a very private person, and the infirmary will soon be crowded. If nothing can be done—let me bring him to his room."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll send an owl to Sirius, but I do not know if he will arrive before dawn. I don't want Remus to be alone. I know it is asking a lot of you, but will you stay with him until I can come upstairs?"

"I don't mind. I'll stay with him." Snape conjured a stretcher under the wolf and levitated it before him up the marble staircase.

Once the wolf was on the bed, Snape allowed the stretcher to vanish and collapsed back against the door. He was suddenly afraid to approach any closer. He knew the wolf was unconscious and couldn't hurt him, but that wasn't his fear. This was the monster, the part of Remus that he hated, the part that had always terrified him, repulsed him. He didn't want his last memories of Remus to be this. How long he kept his distance, he didn't know. 

Shudders shook the wolf's body, and he whimpered in pain. Snape summoned the courage to move closer and put a tentative hand on the fur. The immense irony hit him. All of those years that he had wanted to touch Remus, and the first time he did so, Remus was a wolf. He stroked the coarse fur slowly, willing the pain to leave Remus. He looked at the wolf's face and jerked his hand away in shock. Dried blood was on the fur around his mouth. "_Of course, there's blood, you idiot_," Snape scolded himself, "_You already saw what he did downstairs._" Severus got a towel and some water and washed the blood away. His hands were shaking as he did it, so close to those horrible fangs, but he did do it.

He sat in a chair beside the bed and looked out the window at the sky. It hadn't begun to lighten yet. He sat in silence, listening to Remus's labored breathing. He was tempted to finally tell Remus how he had felt all those years ago, how he felt now, but even now he could not.

* * * * *

In those long years after Potter and Pettigrew had died (or so they had believed) and Black was in Azkaban, Remus had seemed to vanish. Severus assumed that he was living the outcast life so common among werewolves. He almost managed to forget him. He could go months without thinking about him, and then some small thing would remind him. He wondered if everyone had as much trouble forgetting his first love, or if it was only those who were almost eaten alive by them.

Severus had a handful of lovers in those years. He never sought them out, never risked rejection. But if they pursued him, if they were persistent, if they were discrete, then, yes. Severus felt desire for them and affection for them, but he never loved them. He accepted that it was his fate never to love anyone who would love him back. He didn't believe he deserved that.

The year that Lupin returned to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts was pure hell. He could handle him being nearby, handle the attraction that made him hate himself; that made him hate Lupin. He wasn't a child anymore, so he no longer felt the need to torment Lupin with silver and wolfsbane. At least he didn't do it as often. 

No, the year was hell because he honestly believed Lupin would help Black if he could. When they were sixteen, they had acted together to try to commit murder, to murder him. No one else believed it. Black's actions were dismissed as "a childish prank," and Lupin had been absolved altogether. But Severus had known they were killers. He didn't blame the human side of Lupin; he blamed the wolf, the bloodthirsty beast, for driving him to it. They had been taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts that the violent impulses of the beast were always in a werewolf, even when it was in human form. By luring another student into visiting the tunnel, Black had proven a willingness to encourage Lupin's bloodthirsty side. Black had encouraged Lupin to commit murder then; he would do it again now. 

Severus feared the day they would succeed. He feared not only for the safety of Harry Potter, their most probable victim, but he feared for Lupin as well. If he committed murder, he would be irredeemably a monster. The good man, the human in him, would be gone.

Many times he tried to warn the Headmaster and the faculty, but they would not listen. Shortly after Halloween, Severus had overheard McGonagall and Flitwick talking about Black's attempted break-in to Gryffindor Tower. She said something that Severus had heard once too often.

"Sirius was one of the last people in the world I would have expected capable of joining You-Know-Who. I still find it so hard to believe."

Severus interrupted them. "It shouldn't be hard to believe. Black showed you his taste for violence more than once when he was a student. First he befriended a monster, and then they tried to kill me. They share a taste for blood, Lupin and Black, and they'll help each other kill again."

No one listened. It was in September of that year that Severus had purchased the silver dagger. He carried it every day that year. He mentally prepared himself for the possibility that he would have to kill the werewolf. He accepted the fact that there may have been very little human, very little of Remus, left in him.

Then came the night in the Shrieking Shack. Finding Lupin with Black and the students they planned to kill. Learning that Black, Potter, and Pettigrew had become animagi so they could help the werewolf escape from the prison he belonged in. Hearing Lupin talk about their attempted murder of Severus so casually, saying that Black had thought it would be "amusing." He hated Lupin more at that moment than he had ever believed he could, and he hated Black for encouraging and manipulating the violent side of Lupin, for drawing out the beast and destroying the human. 

And he had been wrong. It had taken Severus a long time to accept that Black was innocent of the charges that had sent him to Azkaban. He had not believed it until he saw Pettigrew with his own eyes, heard him calling Voldemort "Master." And it was only when he believed Black to be innocent that he was able to accept that Lupin had not gone to the Shrieking Shack as Black's accomplice. He had not gone there to commit murder. But he was still a beast.

* * * * *

Approximately two hours before dawn, Dumbledore came to the room. He checked on Remus, and seeing that he was still unconscious, he sat on the edge of the bed and discussed the condition of the school with Snape. Casualties had been miraculously light. Many were injured but would survive. Only three from the school had died: Leticia Rivier, an old friend of Dumbledore's and a former Auror who had been living at the school to help protect it, Maeve Entwhistle, a recent Hogwarts graduate who had been doing advanced studies with Professor Vector, and a Gryffindor fifth year, Colin Creevey, who had been out on the grounds taking photographs of the luminescent giant squid. "_Typical of a Gryffindor to stumble into harm's way_," Snape thought, but he knew better than to say it aloud.

"Minerva has already left to inform Colin's father. Poppy didn't want to let her leave the hospital wing yet, but—"

"Professor McGonagall can be very—determined."

"Yes. I need to go see the Entwhistles and Leticia's sister, but I can wait until after dawn. I know I promised to relieve you here. It was good of you to stay here as long as you have, Severus."

"No, Headmaster, you should go now. I'll stay with Remus."

Dumbledore had been looking down at the wolf, but now he turned to look intently at Snape. Snape was aware that his eyes were overbright with unshed tears, but he didn't try to hide them from the older man. Dumbledore knew so many of his secrets already; one more secret would hardly matter. 

"You're sure, Severus?" 

Snape merely nodded. He did not trust himself to speak. Dumbledore knew that he was on the verge of tears, but Snape still didn't want Dumbledore to see him cry. He stood and went to the window. He could not see the setting moon from this side of the castle. 

"Good-bye, Remus," he heard Dumbledore say. "I will miss you." 

Snape suddenly wished he could see the moon. He heard Dumbledore leave the room. The sky was beginning to lighten and the wolf began to whimper in pain again. Snape returned to the chair beside the bed. He felt the weight of the silver dagger bump against his leg. In some bizarre way it was a comfort. He had been prepared to kill Remus; he could bear to witness his death.

The sky was quite light and filled with streaks of deep pink when the wolf finally opened his eyes. They were the golden color that had haunted Severus's nightmares, but this time they were filled with pain, not with hunger. His body was shaking more violently now. Snape imagined a struggle going on between the two forms of dark magic inside him. One curse trying to kill the human that was about to emerge, and the older curse trying to keep the wolf there, to keep him alive. Snape wanted to touch him, to stroke away the pain as he had done several times during the night, but with Remus awake, he could not. He was unsure if those pain-filled eyes could see, but he wanted Remus to know he wasn't alone. He spoke to him; he told Remus what he would want to know.

"The school is safe. Professor Dumbledore is safe. You succeeded in protecting him. He was here a little while ago. Sirius is on his way, but I don't when he will arrive. We were very fortunate. Only two adults were killed and all the students are safe." A white lie about Creevey wouldn't hurt, but Snape would not lie to Remus about his own condition.

Snape had never witnessed the werewolf's transformation before. He had no way of knowing how much pain it normally involved, but this could not be normal. Remus wasn't just transforming, he was dying. The act of transforming was killing him. Snape was horrified on several levels. He hated seeing the wolf change into the man he had once loved. He had known in an abstract way that the wolf was Remus, but actually seeing the transformation occur made it more real. He knew it was a sight that would haunt him. But more than that, he hated seeing the man he had loved in pain. Yet, he did not look away. He watched Remus's eyes, trying to anchor Remus to life, willing him to stay alive, but this was magic he could not do. 

The moon set. The sun rose. Remus looked peaceful at last. Severus Snape finally cried.

Severus had just realized that he heard the sound of clawed paws running toward the room when the sound suddenly changed to that of a human running. With no time to compose himself, he bolted out of his chair and crossed to the window. He stood with his back to the room as if looking out. He would not let Sirius Black see his tears.

The door crashed against the wall. For a few seconds there was only silence. Severus didn't even trust himself to breathe for fear that his ragged breathing would betray his emotions. When he heard Sirius's slow footsteps toward the bed, he forced himself to breathe deeply, calmly. The bed creaked slightly as Sirius sat beside his friend.

"_I could leave now_," Severus thought_. "He is saying goodbye to Remus; he wouldn't even notice me as I leave_." Yet, he stayed. He could not leave. Not yet. He told the lie that Remus would have wanted him to tell. 

"He didn't suffer. He never regained consciousness." The lie was easy to say. Maybe because a lifetime of lies had trained him well. Maybe because he wished it were true. Remus's agonized final screams still echoed in his mind.

"Thank you for staying with him. I'm glad—glad he wasn't alone. He was too often alone." Sirius's voice had the strangled quality of a person holding back tears.

Now was the moment to leave. The tears were dry. The mask of detachment was back on his face. But if he stayed long enough to hear Sirius cry, he might crumble. Severus turned to face the door, to face the room. Sirius was sitting on the edge of bed, but part of him was clearly somewhere far away. His eyes seemed unfocused as he stared at Remus's pale face. Severus wondered if he was lost in memories of happier days.

"I envy you," Severus said. The words were out before he could stop them. He wished he could pull them back, but it was too late. Sirius's eyes were focused again, and they were fixed on him. "He was a good man, and I envy you that you could ignore the fact that he was a werewolf. I regret that I could not." That was as much as he was willing to say. He started for the door.

"You _still_ don't understand us, do you?" Sirius's voice was bitter, angry. This was good. Anger would keep the tears at bay, and Severus wanted to stay in that room. He wanted to understand the bond that Remus had had with his friends.

"What do you mean? Explain." Somehow, Severus managed to keep his voice neutral, to hide his desperation to understand.

"We never _ignored_ that he was a werewolf," Sirius said. His eyes drilled into Severus. He seemed to need to make someone understand. "We accepted it. We _cherished_ it. That's why we called him 'Moony'. We wanted him to accept it too. Our ignoring it wouldn't have helped him deal with bastards like you who tried to make him ashamed of what he was, who made him believe that he had to hide what he was."

"Cherished?" Severus repeated in confusion. No, he could not understand that. 

"We loved Remus, and part of Remus was the wolf," Sirius continued. His voice was becoming gentle, and tears were caught in his dark lashes. "He was such a beautiful mix of human and wolf. How could we not love the wolf?" The tears had escaped and were now spilling freely but silently.

Severus still couldn't understand. "But the wolf was a monster—a killer. How could it possibly have been a beautiful part of Remus?" He should have said "Lupin." He was being careless.

Sirius hadn't noticed; he was angry again. "The wolf was also fearless, determined, loyal—" Sirius bowed his head and covered his eyes with one shaking hand. "Those aspects of the wolf were always in Remus. He buried the violent thoughts—controlled them. He was a gentle soul with a spine of steel. The wolf was the steel."

Severus breathed in sharply. All these years he had believed that he loved Remus's human side and despised the wolf that contaminated it. But he had loved both—he had loved the mix of the two. He had been blind to the truth of who Remus was. He had never deserved Remus.

"That's why we became animagi," Sirius continued. His voice was becoming a whisper. He was no longer speaking for Snape's sake, but for his own. "We wanted to share the wolf with him. We wanted him to learn to love himself as much as we loved him. We almost succeeded." The final words were almost inaudible. His pent-up sobs broke free.

Severus left him then. They would each mourn alone.

__

Please, please, review! Could you follow the shifts between the "present" and memories? Do the characters behave consistently with the way they behave in the novels? Are the parallels between discrimination against werewolves and the discrimination against homosexuals clear without being too obvious? Severus can't see the similarities, but do you? Maybe if poor Severus had friends who were as supportive as Remus's, he would have been a happier person—then again, Severus was probably already hopelessly bitter!

I can't believe I tortured and killed my favorite character!

Disclaimers: Hogwarts and all characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. (Who would probably laugh at the idea that Severus secretly loves Remus!) I borrowed the name "Prof. Zabini" from Moon's story "Cub Scout" and the Canine Poultice Potion from the Wolfie Twins' story "Call of the Wild." (Although I did add the idea of using trefoil for the cerberus variation—three leaves for three heads.) If you like Remus, you MUST read "Call of the Wild"!


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